Once a Rose
by Jackie Almasy
Summary: While escorting Grayditch survivor Bryan Wilks to Rivet City, Lone Wanderer comes to grips with her own fears, trials, and tribulations. Unsure of how to view her actions, Charon watches in hopes of understanding her motives. (3/14/2013: Back To The Writing Desk, On Hiatus Until Further Notice)
1. Grayditch

Once a Rose

By Jackie Almasy

* * *

The empty howl of the wind blowing through the Wasteland echoed around Bryan Wilks. His tattered overalls ruffled against his tiny body, unable to hide his thinning frame and arms. His tired brown eyes looked at the poorly crafted metal cross before him, tilted ever so slightly to the left. The pile of rocks acting as its pedestal shifted, one of the many little fragments of the earth falling from the top to the ground.

"_How long has it been since that day?"_

Bryan couldn't think clearly. It couldn't have been more than a week or two at the most though it felt like a lifetime ago. Less than two weeks ago what little childhood he had left was still alive. He could have been exploring more hiding places from the giant ants with Brandice, taking shooting lessons from his father, or watching the starry sky above him late at night.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes quickly to push away the beginnings of tears. Despite the layers of dust and debris on his skin, it could not hide the growing dark circles beginning to form along his eye sockets. It had been days since he had gotten any decent amount of sleep. Days since he felt safe enough to sleep as soundly as he had before all the events that had shaped the rest of his life.

"I'm not gonna cry Dad. I'm a man now. I… I have no time to cry!"

He wasn't sure if he was saying those words out loud in order to comfort himself or reassure his fears but he didn't care. It felt good to talk to anything even if it was the grave of his father.

Bryan kneeled down slowly, afraid to disturb anything of the grave he had spent an entire day on less than a week ago. It had been harder than he thought it would be. He took a piece of metal from Dot's Diner, using the sharper edge to dig into the dusty desert. It took him hours, digging deeper and deeper till his fingers had bled.

He opened his palms, looking down at the brown stained bandages caked with red stains from his fresh wounds. Flexing his palms, he winced slightly at the feel of the constant sting rising to a mild discomfort. He could hear the wounds squish slightly with the fresh blood rising and rubbing against the scarred flesh. The stimpak he had managed to scavenge only did so much.

"_Must have been faulty."_

Shifting from his knees to his rear, Bryan put his arms on his knees, turning his gaze back to the grave.

"I don't know how she did it Dad. When I told her about the ants, she asked me where to begin looking and told me to hide," Bryan spoke softly, as if still in disbelief.

"I thought she would have told me to get the fuck lost but she didn't. I could hear the gunfire and grenades for miles it seemed."

He picked up a nearby stone, running it along the rough pads of his fingers.

"I didn't know what to think. I thought she was dead. She was gone for hours, maybe even days."

He began drawing in the sand by the edge of a large rock, silently thankful of the small shelter for his art against the wind.

"_I thought I was abandoned again."_

The beginning forms of a gun drawing began appearing in the sand, Bryan tilting his head to look at it.

"But she did something to get them to turn on each other. The screeching was horrendous, probably the scariest sound I had ever heard. Then it got really quiet."

The handle of the gun began to take shape, connecting somehow to the pathetic artist attempt of the barrel.

"But then the door to the shelter opened and she stood there. Tired and exhausted with a large bandage covering a part of her shoulder and neck. She," Bryan stopped, putting down the rock and looking to the cross.

"She told me it was over and that I could come out. I could smell the amount of blood on her almost. It almost made me throw up."

Bryan licked his dry and cracked lips, feeling the sting of tongue along the rough edges of his skin.

"I told her about Rivet City and she told me she'd be back. Back to see if I have someone there to take of me…But I think she lied."

He stood up now, dusting off his pants as if it could help at all to push off the years of caked on grime and grit. His eyes narrowed, looking out over the distance of the Wasteland before him.

"She ain't coming back. Ain't no reason for her _to_ come back. But I'll be okay Dad…"

Taking one last glance at the grave, Bryan allowed his lips to quiver a little bit. Struggling to control his quivering voice, he gently whispered out.

"I have to be okay. I have no choice now."

Turning to walk back towards his empty house, Bryan reached the entrance of the town before stopping in his tracks. It was faint but something was there in the wind. He could hear a dog barking.

Looking over his shoulder, Bryan squinted his eyes to scan the landscape before him. He listened closely, straining his ears to hear for anything like that again. Maybe it had been a pack of wild dogs hunting its next meal. Hell, it could have been the squealing of gears from a wandering robot.

He stopped dead in his tracks, hearing the bark again in the distance but louder. Whatever it was, dog or robot, it was getting closer. Kneeling down behind a large piece of concrete, Bryan's eyes hectically tried to search for the direction of the oncoming sound. Glancing up, the sudden black shape of a dog caught his eye.

Not like a normal dog he had seen around here, the black and gray fur of the large animal. The ears shifted back and forth nervously, trying to be aware of all the sights and sounds around him. Stopping at the top of the hill, the dog looked over the decaying town in front of him before turning and barking towards the opposite end of the hill.

Bryan eyes widened, seeing a tall shadow appear after the dog. Clearly over fix feet tall, the large padding of armor, boots, and a large shotgun attached to their shoulder became noticeable.

"_Fuck! Raiders!"_

Preparing to run, Bryan stopped in mid step to the softer sound of a gentler tone. Gazing back, a second form appeared. Smaller than the taller guy, Bryan couldn't believe his eyes as the sunlight hit her face.

"She came back."

* * *

_How did I do? This story will be about Lone Wanderer and Charon but I wanted to open it with the perspective of Bryan Wilks. This will be a short chapter story surrounding the Lone Wanderer and Charon escorting Bryan to Rivet City to be with his Aunt. While traveling, I want to focus on Bryan's reflections of what he went through, how Lone Wanderer reacts, and how it affects Charon._

_Let's see where this leads. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! It has been a very **long** time since I did anything but short stories so it will be interesting to see how this plays out._

_Till next time,_

_Jackie Almasy_

Fallout 3 is copyrighted by Bethesda Game Studios, Bethesda Softworks, and ZeniMax Media. I own nothing.


	2. Cold

Chapter 2

Cold

* * *

"It wasn't easy but I managed to track down this aunt of yours."

The Lone Wanderer whispered through her cracked voice, coughing towards the end of her sentence. Shaking her head slightly, a wave of dust flew from her dark brown hair. Dirt and grime stuck to her face and clothes giving off the suggestion that she had been traveling non stop for nearly a week.

Bryan leaned against the wall of his house, looking up at the sunlight peering through the cracks in the ceiling. Hearing a gust of wind blow by, the cracks whistled a high pitched ring and blew fragments of dust into the house.

The sound of heavy panting caught his ears as he turned his head down. Sitting down with front paws firmly in front of him, shoulders hunched, and tongue stick out, the curious stare of the dog caught his own. Tilting his head to the side, the dog whined softly and wagged his tail cautiously a few times.

Smirking softly, Bryan reached his hand out and rubbed the top of his head to the back of his ears. However the smile faded quickly as he turned his gaze to the low growl of the tall ghoul leaning against the wall no more than three feet from him.

"You seriously managed to find her? Where is she?"

Opening her green eyes, the Lone Wanderer began to reply before coughing harshly. Grunting, she turned to the tall and stoic man in the corner.

"Charon, water please."

Without taking his gaze off of the Bryan, Charon reached one hand into the nearby hanging bag. Rummaging around quickly, the silent ghoul narrowed his blue eyes at the suspicious look Bryan cast his way. Gripping the small bottle, Charon chucked the bottle towards the girl.

"_Kid's going to be a fucking pain in the ass. I can already see it."_

Paying no heed to the growing tension in the room, Dogmeat turned his head towards his Master. Walking towards her, he turned in circles a few times before laying himself at her feet. Staring upward, his eyebrows perked left and right as he watched Bryan and Charon from a distance.

Catching the bottle easily, the Lone Wanderer unscrewed the cap and began gulping the water down. Groaning out loud at the taste of the purified water, she lazily put the cap back on while continuing her story.

"Rivet City. Your aunt's name is Vera, Vera Weatherly. She owns the only hotel in the city. When she heard of your situation and what had happened, she agreed to take you in."

It was then that Bryan noticed how bright her green eyes were. Looking intently at them, Bryan couldn't remember when he had seen eyes like that before.

"The best part is that you will be with family, growing up with other children, and more importantly, you'll be safe Bryan."

Shuffling on his feet uncomfortably, Bryan shoved his hands into his pockets moving his gaze from her face to the floor.

"Look lady, I don't know why you did this…"

Lifting her head curiously, the Lone Wanderer remained silent though slightly shocked to Bryan's words.

Wincing visibly at the audible growl of the ghoul to his side, Bryan turned his gaze to see Charon's icy cold glare and angry scowl. Hands firmly tightened around his arms, Bryan couldn't help but eye the large combat shotgun on his back wearily.

"Wait that came out wrong. Fucking hell!"

Running his hand through his dust matted hair, Bryan suddenly began shifting back and forth on his feet nervously as if cornered between a rock and a hard place.

"What I mean is that I don't know _why_. Why did you go through all this trouble, certain danger, and distance? You walked probably hundred of miles, used up resources you could have saved, bullets, and more! Why?"

Rambling on, Bryan looked back to the Lone Wanderer's eyes. Stopping mid-sentence, he couldn't tell if what he was seeing on her face was pity or silent revulsion.

"Why didn't you turn me away two weeks ago? Everyone else did. Why didn't you?"

Caught slightly off guard by the question, the Lone Wanderer shifted her gaze around as if trying to find the answer.

"I guess Bryan because I know what it is like to be as scared and alone as you were in that moment."

Caught completely off guard by her answer, Bryan couldn't hide his disbelief in the honesty and genuine kindness in her words. Perhaps Three Dog was right about her from the GNR reports.

Standing from the small chair, the Lone Wanderer picked up the half empty bottle of water. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she walked to the door.

"Pack your things and saw goodbye to whomever you need to Bryan. We leave before dawn tomorrow."

Looking over her shoulder, she whistled a soft tune as Dogmeat's ears perked up. Quickly getting up, the faithful canine jogged to his master and proceeded out the open door.

The Lone Wanderer motioned towards Charon.

"That's Charon and don't mind him. He's the armed escort and my bodyguard. You met Dogmeat. I'm Diane by the way. We never really got time to properly introduce ourselves last time."

Walking out the door, Diane quickly shut it behind her to keep the blowing dust from entering into the house. Sighing heavily with them out of sight, she closed her eyes and looked down to Dogmeat. One hand on her pistol and the other holding the water bottle, she suddenly smiled down at her dog.

"I think I know who deserves a cool drink of water, especially after today's trek."

Suddenly launching himself foreword and spinning a few times in front of her, Dogmeat barked ecstatically with his tail wagging promptly behind him.

* * *

Later that night Diane sat on the edge of the sidewalk outside Bryan's house. Turning on the light green hue of her Pip-Boy light, she turned her attention back to her pistol. Laying the bullets on the small cloth beside her, Diane began cleaning the weapon.

Tilting his head to the side, Dogmeat whined slightly before wagging his tail a few times.

Lifting an eyebrow to him, Diane smirked.

"You miss listening to Three Dog that much? Even though all he does is overly exaggerates every single thing I do?"

Barking once, Dogmeat lifted his head and began panting happily.

"Alright, alright you win."

Pressing on the icon for the radio, the silence around her was soon disrupted by the singing of a young woman. Watching Dogmeat lower his head back to the ground, Diane chuckled as she lifted her attention to the sound of the door closing behind her.

The sound of heavy boots and shuffling ammo informed her as to who was coming. Putting down her pistol, Diane watched Charon stand a few feet away. In the dim neon green light of her Pip-Boy, Diane saw the icy blue reflections of his eyes bearing down into her green ones.

"Something on your mind Charon?"

"That depends. Am I going to regret it?"

Frowning slightly, Diane leaned back against the broken cement. Bracing herself up with her hands, the Lone Wanderer sighed.

"Didn't I tell you from the minute we became a team that I want you to speak your opinion?"

Grunting heavily, Diane couldn't tell if Charon had laughed or growled. Turning towards her, Charon took a few steps foreword. She noticed what was left of his hair swaying slightly in the wind. His muscles were tight and stressed, letting her know that his body language was tense.

"Mind telling me what the fuck we're doing with this little shit?"

Widening her eyes, Diane stood up. Dusting off her clothes slightly, Diane folded her arms in front of her chest.

"Excuse me?"

"Why are we walking back and forth across the Wasteland for a kid? What's so special about this one?"

"You know I try and help whomever I can Charon." Diane bit her tongue, trying to keep her temper in check. The probing was getting annoying very quickly.

"This is a whole new god damn ball game. Sure, you hand out a bottle of water here and there. Drop caps to those who supposedly need it."

Diane's tone suddenly became dangerously cold.

"Get to the point Charon."

"You have _never_ gone through this much trouble for anyone else. Don't you lie about it either."

Remaining silent, Diane didn't say anything but looked away briefly. He was right and she didn't like it.

"Why does it matter if I help this boy? It's not like I'm keeping you from something Charon unless you suddenly acquired other uses of your time that I am not aware of."

"The point I am trying to make, _Diane_, is that there are going to be other kids. This ain't no fucking paradise. People die every day. Kids die."

Charon walked edged one step closer, his deep toned voice conveying a cold reality she only needed more reminding of. The harsh realization of this world became all to clear for her the day her father disappeared, was forced to kill her first man, and leave the only imperfect home she had ever known.

The feelings of isolation came rushing back making her feel on edge and suddenly very cornered.

"We're doing this Charon. We're escorting Bryan to Rivet City and that's it."

Pushing past him, Diane leaned down to pick up her pistol.

"It's your choice Wanderer, It always has been. You own my contract. But it doesn't mean that I have to fucking like it."

Turning back towards the house, Charon looked over his shoulder one last time, looking over her form.

"If I were you Wanderer, I wouldn't become too attached to the boy. Chances are, he won't survive the walk. You got Enclave, Raiders, scorpions, and that is just before D.C. I don't need to tell what sort of shit is in there."

Shutting the door to the house, Diane once again sat in the darkness with only the illumination of her Pip-Boy with the soft notes of the Ink Spots echoing into the darkness.

Looking up towards the skies, the Lone Wanderer sighed softly.

"_Dad, what have I gotten myself into?"_

_

* * *

__My apologies for the delay in the update. I got wra__pped up in work (wicked overtime), celebrated Christmas with the family, and in what little free time I had, "researched" Charon's character by playing Fallout 3. I had a lot of trouble trying to stay true to his characterization. I edited this draft at least five times and partially a sixth._

_What do you guys think? Is Charon seeming to be in character with how Bethesda presented him?_

_Happy Holidays to you all, thank you for taking the time to read this, and may you all have a prosperous New Year._

_Cheers,_

_Jackie Almasy_

_P.S. I wrote this chapter to the song "Humility and Love" by Christopher Young. From the musical score of the movie "Creation." The song reminds me of the relationship between Lone Wanderer and James. Give a listen and tell me what you all think!_

Fallout 3 is copyrighted by Bethesda Game Studios, Bethesda Softworks, and ZeniMax Media. I own nothing.


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